


dried herbs and burning spices

by BabyMilk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cabins, Derek is mostly a wolf during this fic, M/M, Magical stiles, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is kind of like a witch, Voyeurism, Werewolf Derek, attempted infidelity, between fics fic, but there are parts where he's human, heat - Freeform, in the important parts, traveler Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyMilk/pseuds/BabyMilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott, a lost traveler, discovers a strange love affair between a werewolf and a boy</p>
            </blockquote>





	dried herbs and burning spices

**Author's Note:**

> sorry it's been so long!!  
> This is a quick fic to make up for taking forever on requests I've been working on!
> 
> Idk if I like it but it gets across the idea I had
> 
> enjoy!

The heat was stifling. The chirping and buzzing of summer dwelling insects echoed through the high trees “god almighty” Scott groaned, sweat falling down his brow like narrow rivers. 

He’s been walking for what felt like days, the twisting roads and dirt paths seemed never ending, the hundreds or thousands of trees providing startling little shade for the poor traveler. “I’m lost.” Scott announced to no one in particular, allowing his own sweat to soak into his heavy clothing. 

A sudden warm breeze brought momentary relief to the man, a whimsical chime flowed through the wind. The sound of dead grass and leaves rustling acted like a lullaby to the tired traveler, an unexpected and overpowering sleepiness falling over him. 

With bewildered and stumbling movements Scott slowly took a seat on a single flattened rock, the smooth surface burning his rump. The once screeching sounds of bugs and birds evolved into a comforting song, the magical bell chime nulling the poor man into a blissful and involuntary sleep. 

\--

Scott suddenly returned to reality in a numbing rush, an ice cold sensation stimulating his forehead. “Where am I?” he mumbled, eyes crusty and uncomfortable, sleep still lingering at the edges. 

“My home.” a kind voice answered, drawing the traveler's attention to a young man kneeling by his side, a clay bowl in his hands. “In the forest?” Scott asked, pushing himself up groggily, the cold something falling in a wet lump from his forehead (Scott now realizing it was a folded cloth) The boy nodded, he couldn’t be much younger than Scott himself. 

His hair is short, just long enough to give him a young and boyish aura, not fully a man but no longer a child. His skin is pale, like moonlight, only his wrists and neck exposed to Scotts wandering eyes, the rest hidden under a thick, crimson robe. 

“What is your name, traveler?” the boy asked, setting down the clay molded bowl (sloshing with water) to place his delicate hands in his own folded lap “Scott. Scott McCall.” he answered, noticing the hung herbs and plants dangling from the ceiling above their heads, tied with sturdy string. 

A small, iron stove sat rusting in a corner, a pot boiling and frothing with heavy clouds of steam floating from its mouth, many leaves and weeds sprouting from the walls and cups, vines with small berries and flowers climbed the walls and floor, as if the room had been taken over by nature itself. 

“My name is Stiles.” the boy said, handing Scott a similarly molded clay cup. The smell was odd, a stranger mixture of cinnamon, lavender and amber reaching the travelers nose. “Please,” Stiles began “drink it. It will help you heal, I discovered you on the road.” 

Scott did as instructed, the thin drink sliding down his throat easily. “Do you live here alone?” Scott asked, coughing only slightly from the bitter taste. Stiles smiled kindly with a small shake of his head “no. I live together with my dear friend.” The boy gestured to a black lump in the corner, what Scott had previously thought was a pile of skinned furrs or blankets, two red orbs suddenly flashing in their direction. 

A wolf. The creature was massive, large paws resting under its long furry chin, its long bushy tail like a broom sweeping across the dusty wooden floors. “He means you no harm.” Stiles chuckled, aware of Scotts poorly concealed shock “You’re free to stay as long as you like, we don’t get company here often.” 

_ The next day  _

Scott awoke to harsh sunlight, rays flooding through a square window in the room Stiles had allotted him, the traveler resting on multiple furs with another resting across him for warmth and comfort, the room itself was sparse save for the harsh smell of sandalwood incense burning in the corner, the small sticks jutting out from a small, painted container. 

The wooden home was silent, the stove no longer heating any tin pots. “Stiles?” Scott called, pushing the wooden door open to see the robed boy plucking wheat from a small, dry garden near the cabin. The boy shimmered in the sunlight, his choppy brown locks a stark contrast to his milky skin, Scott found himself staring when a bead of sweat fell down the back of Stiles’ neck, despite the beat he still wore the thick, blood red fabric from last night. 

A gruff snort caused Scott to jump, the monstrous wolf Derek pushed his cold nose aggressively against Scotts calf, pushing the man forward from the doorway. Dereks red eyes burned through Scott like fire, the animals gaze accusing. 

“Good morning, traveler Scott.” Stiles greeted, arms filled with long strands of golden wheat. “I’m going to bake bread, would you like some?” 

_ One week later _

Needless to say, Scott had grown comfortable in the mountain cabin with Stiles and his wolf, Derek. The man had found himself drawn to the boy, more so every day. One night, as Scott struggled to sleep due to the horrid humidity, the man wandered the small cabin. The sky was glittering with stars, the round moon providing some light for Scott.

“I don’t like how he looks at you.” 

A mans voice, somewhat muffled, peaked Scotts interest. A small, round hole in a wooden wall provided the perfect peep for Scott, the traveler peeking inside to discover Stiles talking with a man. A stranger. 

The stranger stood tall and broad, face and torso heavily concealed by the darkness of night, his large hands held Stiles’ narrow arms in a firm grip, sending a strange surge through Scotts body. 

“I know.” Stiles replied, clearly distressed “ - But we can’t just make him leave. He’ll die, you understand.” 

“Stiles - “ the man began, only to be interrupted by the boy “He’s not a threat, I promise.” 

A long stretch of silence followed, the two mens gazes locked in an intense battle. A deep sigh left the larger mans chest, his broad shoulders sagging in defeat “alright.”

Stiles’ heart melting smile struck a chord in Scotts eavesdropping heart, although the warm feeling was suddenly doused with icy jealousy when the robed boy carefully moved forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the mans lips. 

The exchange lasted only a moment, though Scotts cold feeling lingered, the two parted mouths to wrap one another in a loving embrace, Stiles’ head resting comfortably against the strangers chest, hands resting against the mans forearms. 

Scott pulled away from the peephole almost violently, cursing the moon. 

\---

_ The next morning _

“Stiles.” Scott said, watching the sweet boy carefully pick and examine berries from green bushes surrounding his home. Stiles hummed in acknowledgement, placing an approved fruit in the small pouch he’d created by holding part of his red robe in one hand. 

“I heard a voice last night, “ Scott began, watching how Stiles’ shoulders stiffened “I was just wondering, are there others on the mountain?” 

Stiles stood slowly, careful not to spill the barries he’d collected in his makeshift cloth sack “no, there are no others.” Stiles answered, though his voice was distant. “Derek and I have been the only inhabitants of the mountain for a very, very long time.” 

The large wolf huffed by Stiles’ side, his black fur a startling contrast to the greenery surrounding him. 

\-----

_ Three nights later  _

Scott still felt somewhat suspicious of their stranger that he’d seen with Stiles just a few nights ago, so he found himself kneeling just outside of a few split planks separating Stiles’ bedroom from the rest of the cabin. 

Candles bathed the boys bedroom with yellow, hollow light, multiple half-melted wax candles sat in groups of four or five in various places along the rooms walls. Scott could see the mans face now, his jaw square and his face was handsome, a scruff covering his cheeks and chin. 

The mans hair was dark, midnight black like the wolves fur, his eyes a strange hue in the bleak lighting. The two men, Stiles and the stranger, lay on furs with one another, exchanging kisses and gentle caresses. 

The mans gentle pecks moved from Stiles’ mouth to his cheeks, jaw and neck. The boy released a breathy sigh when the dark stranger bit at his skin. A protective hand slid up Stiles’ thin leg, pushing the heavy fabric of the boys robe to his hip, shamelessly exposing his skin to the mans touch. 

They undressed slowly, revealing a thick, inky symbol tattooed on the mans back just below his nape. Scott didn’t recognize the mark, its swirly shape somewhat hypnotizing to the traveler. The strangers hips moved slowly against Stiles’, having penetrated the boy minutes ago. Their love making was firm yet loving, Stiles making sweet sounds and surprised moans, although his beautiful body was hidden by his partner Scott watched the man until suddenly, their eyes met. 

The man turned his head slightly in Scotts direction, their gazes locked through the split wood in the wall. A cold feeling of dread flooding Scotts body sent the traveler running, having been spotted. 

_ The following morning _

“Why did you lie to me?” Scott suddenly accused Stiles, gripping the boys arm a little too tightly “What? I never lied to you.” Stiles gasped, eyes frightened “You said there were no others on this mountain! I saw you with him!” 

“Scott - “ Stiles grunted when he was thrown against the vine-covered wall, his body barricaded by Scotts somewhat larger form. They kissed, Scotts hand gripping the boys jaw firmly. The traveler allowed his desire to overcome his judgement, using one hand to wrestle Stiles’ red robe to expose one, milky white shoulder. The sight of his normally hidden skin sent a hot wave of arousal through the traveler. 

“Stop.” Stiles pleaded, struggling to escape Scotts powerful grip. “Scott, please  _ stop _ !” Stiles cried, chest now exposed to Scotts harsh hands “Then tell me. Who was the man that fucked you?!” 

Stiles cried in defeat, claiming he’d answer Scotts questions if he ceased. 

The traveler did as he was asked, carefully releasing Stiles in his rumpled glory. The boy shook and cried, pulling the thick robe to cover his shoulders and chest once again. “The man is Derek… A werewolf. He’s my lover.” 

“Derek? A werewolf… The wolf who lives with you?” Stiles nodded, glancing through his lashes to see a shocked and disgusted expression on Scotts face “But he’s an animal!” Scott shouted “A beast! How can you lay with him?!” 

Stiles whimpered, turning his head away “Please, Scott, I don’t expect you to understand.” he whispered “I love him.” 

_ A few hours later  _

“It’s better this way.” Derek said, holding Stiles in his comforting embrace, muscular arms locked around the boys thin torso. Stiles sighed longingly, eyes falling shut. A deep scent of burning eucalyptus filling the room. Stiles placed his thin fingers over Dereks larger ones, both alone once again. 

“Whoah!” the horseman hollered, steed braying and coming to a stop on the dirt road. “Lost, traveler?” the bearded stranger asked, sat high on a wagon. Scott answered with a yes, asking for the nearest town. 

“Scott!” a woman called, immediately throwing herself into the travelers embrace “my love, where have you been?! Everyone was worried  _ sick! _ ” Allison, Scotts wife of three years, placed a cold palm against Scotts sweat dried cheek, flitting over her former-lost husband and his sweaty condition. 

“I’m alright, Allison, really.” Scott laughed, allowing himself to be guided back into their brick home. That night, when Scott laid next to his wife in their familiar furred bed in the humid heat Scott glanced from his window to the full moon, thoughts drifting to Stiles and his wolf, his lover, the wolf. 


End file.
